


Blodwulf

by Jambi10



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fix-It, Longing, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, Tags/characters may change as story progresses, Yearning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28690284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jambi10/pseuds/Jambi10
Summary: Eivor, Soma, and what could have been.
Relationships: Eivor/Soma (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	1. Prelude

A warm, welcome voice came from behind Eivor, one that had always been a comfort. She had been close to seeking her out, just to hear its gentleness in a greeting. It may have been one of the only things that could calm her thoughts. But she didn’t know what she would say.

“Eivor, there you are.”

Had she been looking for her? She wondered why. 

Eivor turned her head to see her, met with a soft smile, one that rubbed off on her without even realising it. 

“Ah, Randvi. Forgive me. I needed a moment.”

“What is there to forgive you for?”

“Dawdling, I suppose.”

Randvi almost laughed. “Surely you jest. You have forged us an alliance, our very first. That is no small task, Eivor. You may dawdle for days.”

Randvi sat down beside her finally, before the water, at the edge of the docks - the edge of the village. The wind seemed to take her mind away for a moment, over the river and the trees.

“What brings you out here, then?” Eivor asked.

“Do I need a purpose?”

“No. But I didn’t think you would dare take a step without one.”

Randvi smiled at that. “Well… I had a random thought; a small curiosity, and with the air so still here, it has bloomed.”

 _Curiosity,_ she said, but her eyes were not of such interest. They were of concern.

“Go on.”

“You and Soma… Was there something more to your bond? You spoke of her with a particular shine in your eyes.” 

_Soma._ It had been days since that name had passed her lips; too long. With the alliance made, and the blade unstuck from the map, her name had gone from dancing on her tongue to whirling around in her head. It struck a shiver down her spine, and it stung, sweet and deep. 

Of course Randvi had noticed something was different. She was probably the only one that could. But there was no point giving her any more of an answer than she expected.

“Soma?” She said, to remember how it sounded. It left her lips, and it was gone, carried away on the wind, not even an echo. 

“We grew very close, very quickly. Is that what you mean?” 

Randvi shook her head, her brow furrowed like she was struggling to say it the right way. “No, I mean… Did something happen between you two?”

It was a vague question for Randvi; timid.

“What sort of question is that?”

“An innocent one,” she replied simply. “Innocent as a newborn babe.”

Eivor frowned, a confusion not for Randvi. “I’m not sure.”

“What sort of _answer_ is that?”

She sighed, heavy. Everything that had happened begged to be let go, pounding from within in the hope of making some sense of it all - but there was not a way in her mind to tell Randvi. She was too genuine, too caring of her, and in her eyes, she was transparent. In a way, she didn’t need to say a word for Randvi to know. 

“If something happened... It was fleeting.” 

“You lost what you felt?”

“No. It was fleeting because it had to be.” 

“I see,” she said. Silence pursued as she thought, and Eivor was not one to break it.

“I find that… disappointing.” Randvi continued. “Eivor, entangled by a hardy jarlskona as she leads her army to victory and prosperity. A rather appealing match.” 

There was a hint of playfulness in her tone and in her eyes, but it was a thin guise - too thin - only there as a kindness.

Eivor chose to go then, before she said too much. 

She stood, and she looked at Randvi, at the kindest face she knew, and prayed that it was not pity that glimmered in her eyes.

“I’m going to pretend your last words were taken by the wind, Randvi.” she said. 

Randvi simply smiled at her, as soft and understanding as always, and she realised she was doing exactly what she expected her to do.

“If you must.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those not sure, Eivor and Soma do get together in this; it is why I wrote it after all. The first proper chapter should be up soon if all goes as planned. Be prepared for it to be short, as with the following ones. Its just how I prefer to write. I hope you enjoyed this little snippet. Thank you for reading!


	2. Grantebridge I

Amongst the mud and the fog, Eivor found the undeniable guiding hand of the so-called Summer Army. Almost swallowed whole by the cloak of thick furs that hung on her back, she strode with heavy but swift footsteps, from one soldier to another. There was not a single hesitation in her movements, her words of advice. Her voice rang firm over the rest, still bearing signs of her connection to her army. A wounded soldier was brought down to the ground near her feet, and she wasted but a second to kneel in the dirt to tend to him.

“Egil? Egil, look at me.” The man was groaning, breathing sharp and ragged, his leg twisted the wrong way, but she drew his eyes and devoted attention without a second request.

“Remember the boars you felled our first day in England?” She asked him, and he nodded. 

She threw a swift glance to the soldier beside her, muttering under her breath without missing a beat. “Hold his arms,” she said, in the breath of the story. Either he did not notice, or trusted her wholeheartedly. Perhaps it was both. 

“Nine, large and fat. Fed us for a week, yeah?” He nodded again. In the anticipation of the lingering question, she jerked her hands, held tight around his leg, to bring it back in place, and the soldier let out a cry of pain.

With a firm hand on his shoulder, she gave him her word.

“You’ll be chasing more in a month, my friend.”

She stood then, and it seemed she was finally taking a moment’s rest. Her eyes roamed the encampment, as her hands worked to soothe each other from strain. Even with her back half-turned and her guard seemingly down, she noticed Eivor as soon as she approached. Her eyes found her and gave nothing away.

“You come like a Valkyrie out of the fog,” she said, not a note of care. “But we have no dead to give you.” 

She could certainly make an impression; without trying nonetheless. Maybe she didn’t even know.

“You must be Soma.”

She refused to give Eivor a single thing. It seemed it would be the other way around, or neither.

“Let’s talk elsewhere. Give them a chance to rest.”

Without waiting for a response, Soma turned and strode away for her to follow. She left no space in the dust behind her feet for any argument; and there would be none.

There was something intriguing about her. The way she spoke, the way she looked at her; even the way she walked, so confident and purposeful. She wanted to know everything of her and more.

Eivor found her hunched over, washing the blood from her hands, paying no mind or care to her. What remained of her fallen friends would still take priority over living strangers.

“Quite a hit you took,” she said, more so to announce her presence behind her than anything. “How many were lost?” 

Soma shook her hands, ridding them of water not nearly clear, before she turned to look at her suspiciously. She crossed her arms. Eivor’s question dissolved in the air with the weight of a feather.

“It’s kind of you to ask, but with so much blood in the water and death on the air, I’d know your name and purpose first.” 

Up close, the darkness around her eyes was apparent. Whether it was the wear of endless tired hours of carrying the burden of leadership or not, it was intense.

“Eivor of the Raven Clan.” She took a hand to her chest. “I came for you, looking for a friend and an ally.” 

There was a knot in her throat that came undone when her expression softened into the trace of a smile. 

“I see,” she said with a new tone, less rigid, stepping forward with an outstretched hand to shake hers. “I am Soma, Lord of Grantebridge. Though a band of lunatics wishes to strip me of that title.” 

Her expression dissipated into disgust. “The Saxon called Wigmund is one of them. He robbed me of my city, forced us into these swamps.

“I don’t know of him.”

“Then I envy you. He is a flailing, bitter ealdorman under the old king, digging his fingernails into Grantebridge just to say he can. He’s made many attempts before to take it, and this time, he managed the trick. He seized it from me, from us. I’m not sure how he did it, but he will _not_ keep it. Not for long.”

In the minutes she had known her, she had learned just that - Grantebridge would not be in the hands of any other but Soma. Anything else was not a possibility. If she had been told that she had bent the very strings of fate with her own hands, she would not question it.

“One of your men, Magni; he spoke of it like an ambush.”

“Yes, exactly. The attack seemed to come from inside the walls; from the heart of Grantebridge. I was able to drag us out by our teeth, but…” Her face turned solemn, gazing at the camp. “We lost too many.”

“I’m sorry.”

Soma looked surprised. But she nodded. 

“I have rallied some of my soldiers,” she moved on, “But my advisors are missing. I need them by my side if we hope to retake the city.”

“Tell me about them.” 

“There is Birna, Gallin and Lif. They are my best, my inner circle. We may as well be of the same blood.”

“I know what you mean.” Eivor replied. “If I can reunite them, and retake your city - can I call you a friend and an ally?”

In the slightest turn of her lips, she smirked. “If you can do all that, you can call me whatever you want.”

It all seemed too easy for her.

“Then let’s find them.” 

Soma nodded. “Agreed. We’ll look along the river, for signs of their longboats. If we are swift, we will find them before the wolves do. But first-” She gestured up to a beacon, sitting unlit atop the ruins of a tower. “We must light the way back.”

-

“I know what you must think.”

She almost jumped at her voice. She had expected a quiet walk through the Fenlands, maybe a question or two only to fill the silence. Not one like that. 

“What must I think?” She asked her. 

“That it’s foolish to search the Fenlands for so few people.” 

It would be a lie to say it had not crossed her mind. But it was never in the realm of foolishness, not even close. There were few lengths she wouldn’t go to for her clan. And in many ways, she saw the same devotion in Soma. 

“The soldiers you lost were your best, no? Vital to taking back the city. Do _you_ think it's foolish?”

“Not at all.”

“Then why would I?”

Eivor looked aside at her for something, anything, that would help her understand what she meant. But Soma’s eyes were dead set on ahead as she denied her attempt to flip the conversation with ease.

“You have the look of one who does well with solitude. You’re alone, a wanderer. It may be you think of soldiers as war fodder, and little else.” 

And though she tried to tell her that it was not quite so, Soma was firm.

“I-”

“But these warriors are more than a blade and a shield. They are my family. Nothing short.”

Eivor found herself taken. Soma was defending against the mere possibility of ill judgement, and it was admirable.

“I know,” she said. “I never thought any different.”

It was hard to see her in the darkness, but even through shadows and fog she could see how her face was hardened to stone - tense, unreadable - something achieved through practice and mastery.

Soma allowed the silence to hang for a long moment. She spoke softer. “I’ve lost a city this week. I will not lose them too.”

“You won’t. You haven’t.”

Time proved it to be true. It also proved that Soma’s inner circle had a knack for getting into difficult situations. Birna and Lif both taken captive by Saxons, Galinn nearly mauled to death by wolves. The waves of soldiers and beasts taken on through it all, and so much blood spilt. Though not once did Soma seem to worry or doubt her friends’ capabilities to push through - or her own, to get them out. She laughed at Birna’s antics, told Eivor stories in the spaces between clashes.

And her friends seemed to share the same resilience. One by one Soma set out their path home, and disappearing through the fog, they followed the beacon, resting over the muddy ruins of Middeltun. But she did not go with them.

Birna, the last to be found, had taken off when Soma gestured for her to follow.

“Eivor. Walk back with me.”

There was less weight to her steps, less urgency. A softness about her. Finding her friends had given her some sense of calm; for the time being, at the least.

“She has a sunny way, Birna.” Eivor said.

Soma chuckled. “I’d tell you she was Loki in disguise if she had a scrap of subtlety in her. Her mind is curly like a grapevine. And it’s given me an edge over my enemies in the past, the same way as Lif’s craftsmanship. ”

“He’s a prim and proper man, isn’t he?”

“He lives by a strict code of honor, more than most. And builds the best longships I’ve ever sailed. They’re the reason we escaped Grantebridge alive. He’s not the strongest man, but he’s wise and canny and hard to pin down. Like a fish wriggling free of a net.” 

“The two would be like ice and fire, I’d imagine.”

“That’s well spotted, yes. I like to see variety in the company I keep.”

That had been abundantly clear.

“I can tell. And Galinn, he is… a serious man.”

“And a man of the gods,” Soma added with a sigh. “He carries them around in his mind as a tree bears its branches. It makes his head heavy. But it keeps our spirits light, knowing the gods give us favour. He and Lif did not always get along, but they’ve bonded since we took Grantebridge.”

“Sour blood between them?”

“In a way. Both considered themselves my second, and hated the other for it. But I do not rank my family like I do my horses.” She spoke sternly.

“Competition can mar the love between siblings for life.” Eivor added.

“It can also bring out the best in people, if the fire is stoked right,” she said further. An interesting thought, one she clearly knew well. “All of them have helped me find my footing in desperate times. It is important to keep those who disagree with you close as family.”

The walk was silent from that moment, as the thought weighed over their heads. And by the time they returned to camp, the sun was on its last legs. The camp had doubled in size, soldiers arriving with the darkness, following the smoke signal, Soma's closest friends among them. But she looked off. A heaviness had returned to linger over her, and she spoke but a word of it.

“Something wrong?” Eivor asked her.

And then, snapped out of her thoughts, her eyes turned bright, too easily. Too quickly.

“No, no. Things are beginning to look up at last, no small thanks to you.” She gestured out at the camp. “The beacon has drawn the last of my soldiers. By tomorrow, our strength will have returned, and we can retake our city.” 

Soma glanced from her advisors back to Eivor. She stepped closer, and her eyes fell to the ground.

“I have not yet spoken to my three about this,” she said, low. “After my missteps... I worry what they must think of me.”

Soma looked anxious, to say the least; fearful, almost, at the chance they thought less of her. That, more than anything, more than trudging through deathly swamps to rescue them, told Eivor how deep Soma held her friends in her heart; not only her friends, but their trust and regard of her. A jarlskona, Lord of Grantebridge, and yet she fret about how they viewed her, just as they would. But she worried for Soma. In such a home, even the slightest wounds could prove fatal; beyond repair. Though Eivor was no different.

“Missteps? They will be grateful you risked your life to find them. I would be.”

Soma looked at her for a moment. She opened her mouth, and it seemed she was to say something difficult. But she faltered, and walked away, to her huddled soldiers around the fire.

There was a part of her that wanted to pry, beg her to let go of whatever words had been unsaid. Something about the woman left her rethinking each move of hers and overthinking her own. Everytime she spoke it was with certainty and passion, not a single futile word. To see her second guess herself was to see her cower. And she thought about it much that night.


	3. Grantebridge II

Standing before her closest friends once again, Soma let out a sigh of relief.

“By Thor’s hammer, I am glad we are back together,” she said to them. “In spite of our setback.” 

Her eyes fell upon Galinn, his heavy head and eyes, and she brought a hand to his shoulder as she spoke. “Do not grieve the men you lost, Galinn. They will be singing your praises in the corpse hall, waiting for us.”

There was still a shade of grief over the man. But his eyes were lightened by her words.

“Thank you, jarlskona.”

She stepped to Lif, and the two shook hands. They looked at each other the same way, with the same respect. 

“You’d outlast any tempest, Lif.”

“It’s good to be back, Soma. All as one. Know that I would follow you through the eye of the storm if you called.”

She nodded at him like she already knew.

“Birna…” Soma spoke to her then, and she had but taken a step when she was brought into a hug.

“I’m delighted you’re alive,” Birna said.

Soma looked somewhat taken aback when she stepped away after a short moment. 

“I’m... grateful to be living.” Then she spoke up to all of them. They were looking at her with nothing but admiration, a different shade of it in each of them. 

“And I’m grateful _you_ all live. I lost so many after all this; but I still have you three. That makes me the most blessed warrior in Midgard.”

_Blessed_ \- a bold claim, especially for one robbed of her home and half her people. And judging from the sparkle in her eyes, she believed it with her heart.

Soma turned her head to Eivor, at her side, and their eyes locked at last.

“And you.” Soma said, just the shadow of a smile on her lips. “You have more than proven yourself. Help us reclaim our city, and you will have an ally in me.” 

“My blade is yours.”

Her smile grew.

“We will rest tonight. Gather our strength and our wits. At the break of dawn's light - we retake Grantebridge!” She raised a fist, and the soldiers cheered. 

As they dissipated, Soma moved to face her.

“You’re welcome to pass the night in our camp, Eivor. I’ve found a place for you.”

“Thank you, Soma.”

“No. Thank _you.”_ she insisted. “Today…” she struggled to find the words. “I’m glad I had you by my side.”

“Eivor!” 

Towards the yell, she looked over to Lif, calling out to her from the fire, where the three sat together. “Come, drengr! Sit with us.”

She glanced aside to see Soma was already gone, dragged away and occupied with another soldier. There wasn’t much of a reason to say no, she realised, and so she made her way over.

“Lif, yes?” she asked him, taking a seat across from them.

He nodded. “That’s right.”

“Soma told me you’re the man who built her longships.”

“I’m sure Soma told you many things,” he chuckled. “But yes, also right! Each is sharp and stout, singing the praises of the drengr who commands her.”

“How so?”

“Poetry, of course! It is etched into the hull of each and every one. A longship is heavy with fate; just a few lengths of wood between you and a watery grave. What better place to put a line of poetry?”

She remembered what was written on all that remained of Soma’s longship. _Jarlskona keeps family clutched firmly in fist, loves deeply her city of summer and mist._ It was one’s legacy between them and their death.

“You make a good point.”

“I would also like to thank you for plucking my warriors and I from the mire,” he continued. “Soma did fine, bringing you along.”

Then Soma appeared beside her, taking a seat in the empty space next to her. Her presence brought a feeling of relief.

She intercepted the conversation which had gone silent in the moments since she had returned. “With all due respect, Lif, I did not _need_ Eivor.” 

He laughed. “Of course, jarlskona,” he said. “Nonetheless; thank you, Eivor. And you too, Soma,” he added with a smirk, and Soma shook her head. But there was a smile there.

“I did need you today, Eivor.” she had leaned in just slightly, to speak closer to her, and only her; close enough that the breath of her whispers reached her ear and her neck. It made her shiver, a rushing chill before the flames, and she couldn’t figure out why.

“I just want to make that clear. Lif is like a brother, but his head grows too large for his shoulders sometimes. I like to keep it in check.”

“By rivaling his?”

“For the moment. Are we not allowed to wade in the waters of pride every now and then?”

“So long as you don’t drown.”

“No, not me. I stick to the shallows.”

“Is that so?”

She showed her mercy by looking away, to set her eyes on the fire, where they would continue to stoke. 

“You will see.”

“I thank you also, Sunbeam!” Birna spoke, a shrill voice cutting through their words which lingered still in the silence. 

“Sunbeam?” Eivor repeated.

“You cut through the fog like the sun burning through ice, drengr,” she explained cheerfully, swinging her arm about for effect, slicing the air. “It is marvelous!”

“You’re in high spirits, all things considered. The ambush, losing your home…”

“In this moment, yes. But - ah - you feel that?” She breathed deep. “The moment has passed. We are free the pursue the next. What a gift!”

“A nice way to look at it all.”

“You know, I like you, Eivor. You may help me here in this fight or step on me, and by the look of you I’d welcome either.”

Eivor looked aside at Soma then. The fire had cast flickering shadows on her face. She could not tell if it was the light, or the corner of a smirk she could see. 

Galinn tuned in. “I prefer Eivor; the infinite fighter, or forever warrior. It is a glorious name.”

He had a strange, serious look about him; nothing loose, nothing at ease. 

“Many thanks,” she replied. “You were in a tight spot when we found you.”

“Yes, indeed. The Saxons pursued me, ran me bloody through the swamps and into the lap of bandits. And then, the wolves came.” He spoke like a skald, dramatic and intense. “We all have our One Day - the day we die. How you greet that day is all that matters. I am proud to say that I am ready.”

“Not an easy feat.” 

With passing time, the conversation drifted to the other side of the fire, where they spoke brightly.

The delicate music of crackling fire, of low chatter; it was simple enough to dwell in. She hadn’t realised she hoped to talk with Soma until she took note of the silence. Soma didn’t seem to mind it. She could see her take a deep breath, the great rise and fall of her chest, almost in tune with the travels of the wind. And then her voice came through, calm, flowing seamlessly with the sounds of the night.

“Tell me of your clan, Eivor. Where are you from?”

“We are Norse.”

Soma smiled, just slightly, and she asked her again.

_“Where are you from?”_

The question hung on the air for longer, with a different sound. Eivor looked at her, studied her, perhaps a second too long, trying to figure out if it was just the fire’s reflection in her eyes, or something else.

“A village in Norway, Fornburg.”

“A long way. You must be newly arrived, seeking out allies like this.”

“You would be right. Is it that obvious?”

Soma chuckled. The fire felt closer than before.

“Everyone has their reasons. Why leave?”

“My brother, Sigurd Jarl - he was robbed of his kingship under the binds of a cowardly peace. We have come here to start anew. Free.”

“To prosper.”

“That is our intention, yes.”

Soma nodded. Thoughts passed in her head, behind her eyes, tilting her head. “You know, I thought it was you.”

“What?”

_“You._ Eivor Jarlskona.”

Eivor laughed a little. It was a strange thought. “I suppose I didn’t tell you.”

“No, not because of that. It was my natural assumption. Didn’t think twice of it.” Her words were firm. 

She didn’t know what to say to that, as she processed it silently. And in the lull, Soma was looking at her, she realised, her attention straying nowhere else.

_“You_ were easy to spot,” Eivor told her, while she would hear her as clear as possible. “I noticed the way they all look at you.” 

Soma raised an eyebrow, curious. “And how is that?” She asked, her voice dimmed.

“They trust you. They respect you. I haven’t seen that before.”

“Surely you have not seen much here.”

“I have seen enough. I have seen people cower in fear at their leaders.”

“It disgusts me,” Soma said, bitter, shaking her head. “That weasel, Wigmund… the people cower at him, as you say. Not because he is powerful himself. He hides behind his army, his wealth. That pathetic little man has never raised a sword in his life.”

“You will have his head soon enough. And when the sun sets once more, Grantebridge will be yours again.”

Before she could respond there was an eruption of laughter from across the fire, a commotion between the three, limbs swinging and stomping in expression.

Soma watched with a soft smile. It was the first time she had seen her content, and it was a sight she found hard to look away from.

“You must be glad to have them back.”

“I am. I wouldn’t be able to do this without them.” Then she turned her gaze upon her, a different kind of fire, like a cool blue ember.

“I think I may soon feel the same of you, Eivor,” she said.

She stood, leaving her to think on those words, before Eivor could ask her what she meant.

“I will go and rest for the night,” she told her. “You should too.”

Eivor nodded. As Soma began to walk off, she called out to her. “Remember what happens tomorrow.”

Soma was smiling when she looked back for a brief second. She did not have to be told.

“I think scarcely of anything else.”


End file.
